Getting Into The Family Business
by o0obubbleso0o
Summary: My name is Olivia, and I'm going to be upfront. I lack the basic self preservation to stay the hell away from things that may want to eat me. And it's not because of a set of smoldering green eyes. Well, not JUST because of that... Pt2 in Olivia's story. M for lemons. I own only my own creations. Part One is not a required read, but it's mid season hiatus, so why not?
1. The Road So Far

The Road So Far

The last year of my life has been... Interesting, to say the least. I got cheated on, killed my first vampire, heard all the bumps in the night and proceeded to kill them, sentenced my ex boyfriend to a death worthy of the red queen, got laid for the first time in way too long... and the sad part is, this was all an improvement.

I met the Winchesters on a local hunt in my home town. They came to clear out a vampire nest that my ex happened to be a part of, and gave me the metaphorical heimlich maneuver when I bit off a little more than I could chew. We went our separate ways, until I bumped into them in Florida, months and months later. It was a shock to say the least, bumping in to them. It was even more shocking when Dean made it clear that I wouldn't be hunting on my own any more. I received my penultimate shock when I discovered Dean was into me.

It took a misunderstanding involving a half naked friend of mine, an experimental ghost ganking, and a big old dose of reality on my part, but by the time we had taken care of the ghost in Minnesota, Dean and I were... not together, exactly. I am not sure what we were. Exclusive humping partners that shot anything that tried to touch the other, but definitely not an official couple, no matter what Sam said, and... I'm rambling. I do that.

Anyways, Dean and Sam and I ganked a ghost at the Idlewilde resort in Minnesota. I used to summer there with my parents, and my old friend set us up with a cabin. We didn't have a body, so I came up with a plan to gank the son of a bitch with the help of my friend. Dean and I lured the ghost out, and she helped him cross over. She's pretty freaking awesome.

So, there you have it. My life sucked so bad monster hunting was an improvement, only partially because now I can get some regularly. Hell, things seemed to be looking up so much, I wouldn't have been surprised if Dean started to like my puppy, Ninja. (He's my 250 pound rottweiler copilot.) Of course, I'm a cynic, so I would be less surprised if everything went to hell and a handbasket. I guess all I can do is carry on, and hope for the best...


	2. Go Home Girl

Over the course of the first 24 hours following the hunt in Osakis, as we hung out in the cabin my friend Kirsti gave us to research our next job, Dean learned a very important lesson about how stubborn I was. I learned that he was Mr. Persistent, and Sam learned that our bickering was nothing compared to awkwardly pretending not to notice as we played kissy face, making up for lost time.

I was bashful about how silly I had been. All those times that Dean and I had almost talked about our feelings, and each time, I shot him down, assuming I was beating him to the punch. My Grandmom was right. Assuming had made and ass, mostly just out of me. Thank God for Sam and Kirsti. I still felt squicky about the Kirsti Dean Misunderstanding. Who wouldn't feel some pronounced squick walking in on their friend hitting on the guy they like? Thank God, Dean hadn't been interested and Kirsti realized I had feelings for Dean before shit got weird. Weirder, to be more accurate. Someday, when the squick abated, we would laugh about the whole thing.

It all culminated in a pretty fabulous... ahhem... interlude, in the bathroom. And bedroom. Part of me wanted to over think it all. What were we? Were we a thing? A friend thing? A couple thing? It took a sizable measure of self control to keep my stupid mouth shut. I knew Dean wouldn't hurt me, at least not intentionally, so I stowed my cynicism, and vowed to myself just to enjoy... whatever it was.

Sam, ever intuitive, had left before the events of the bathroom. Maybe he could tell things were going to come to a head (I will restrain myself from making the obvious joke). Sometime while we were, you know, occupied, he returned. He was posted at the kitchen table, lap top open, ear buds firmly in place as we emerged from the master bedroom. His eyebrows rose. I tried my best to look innocent, but between the rumpled state of my person, Dean's shit eating grin, and the fact that his shirt was ripped down the front, I failed spectacularly.

"Hey." Sam tried to restrain himself, but an amused smile broke through. My ears started burning.

"Hey." Dean and I spoke at the same time, but while his response was chipper, I couldn't help but mumble, which made Sam grin harder, which made me turn redder... it was a vicious cycle. Sam and Dean shared one of their silent conversations, exchanging a look. Sam gave Dean a short nod, and I found myself wishing I spoke Winchester. Dean's hand settled on the small of my back and I felt a thrill. It seemed no matter where or how he touched me, he had a direct line to my girly bits.

We researched into the evening, without much luck. I was surprised by the lack of demonic omens, and Dean began to explain where they stood with the various forces of darkness. I managed to do a relatively good job of keeping my cool as he progressed through the story of the last couple of years. I'd heard inaccurate accounts from other hunters, but finding out what nuggets of gossip were gospel was alarming.

"The honest to God mark of Cain?" I let out a low whistle and Dean looked nervous as he explained, and where some folks may have felt bad for him, I found myself in awe of his strength. He was an honest to God super hero.

Dean avoided my eyes, heading to the kitchen and grabbing some whiskey and tumblers. I think it was to keep himself occupied. "Pretty much." He set the glasses on the table, and poured us each a stiff drink. I accepted mine gratefully, gulping down two big pulls. "Yeah. Listen, if we are...I mean, if you wanted... I just have to lay all the cards on the table. I need to know that, whatever you choose, you know what you are getting yourself into. I... Before I met you, I was sort of a demonic knight of hell who hung out with the king of hell."

I was mid-drink. I couldn't help but sputter. "Shit, Dean, you were possessed?" Dean grimaced.

"Hehe... Uh, not exactly. I mean like, I was a demon, soulless me, in my body, as me, being... demony." Dean downed two glasses of whiskey after rushing through the words. Sam pretended to be engrossed in a weather map, but he wore a grimace, too. "I died, and the Mark-"

"Wow, you died? Again?" I was impressed.

Dean met my eyes, raising a brow. "I tell you I was a demon who spent most of his time with Crowley, and your take away is 'Wow?'"

I shrugged. "Resistance to death is a pretty attractive trait." I gave Dean a smile, but he was still disbelieving. I had to wonder if he wasn't so worried about my ability to make an informed decision as he was about trying to scare me off with his deep dark past. It would take way more than a sketchy past to run me off.

"Honestly, Dean? I'm glad you told me. But if you thought I'd freak, well, sorry for your luck. My ex stole cars and did all kinds of drugs before we got together. He didn't have the redeeming qualities you do. I don't care. Everyone has a past."

I could see Dean's relief, but I could kind of see that he looked a little put out that his dark side hadn't run me off. He looked a little sullen as he sat across the table from me, sipping (gulping) his liquor.

"Hello, Boys. And girl, apparently."

My eyes widened. It was Dean's turn to sputter as he slammed his tumbler on the table. "Son of a bitch."

"Crowley." That was Sam's only greeting as he looked up from his laptop. I let out another low whistle.

"Speak of the devil" I shook my head, turning to get my first up close look at the Demon I'd heard quite enough about.

"King of hell, actually, love." He had an eyebrow arched and a corner of his mouth quirked up. I took in his sharp black suit and red tie, dark hair and all around arrogant posture. He was... shorter than I expected, I guess.

"Moose. Squirrel." He nodded to the boys, taking a step toward me, the table between myself and Dean. I took a drink, hoping I looked like I didn't have a care in the world. Crowley reminded me of a wild animal, dangerous if cornered and able to sense fear. "What have we here? Moose and Squirrel have a pet?" Ninja growled from the kitchen. Crowley was directly in front of me, and I swear, even with the table between us, I could feel Dean tense.

He entered my bubble, and I really wished I had some holy water or something. His first impression was not imposing, exactly, but he was still the Goddamned (literally) King Of Hell. "Who do you belong to?"

I forced myself to stare Crowley down. "That's a little dated way of looking at it." I smiled weakly.

"Is it Moose?"

I raised a brow inquisitively at the boys and Sam gave me a little wave. Moose was Sam, so Crowley was suggesting... "God no! No offense, Sam."

He grinned. "None taken."

Crowley chuckled, and it resonated in his chest for a moment before escaping through his lips. It made my skin crawl. "All the better. Sam's little poppets don't last long. High mortality rate."

I think Sam, Dean and I all shot Crowley the same look at the same time. We were not amused. "Are you Mrs. Squirrel?" Crowley looked practically gleeful. While he did make my skin crawl, he vaguely reminded me of a gossipy teenager, or really excited, dapper uncle. You know, if your favorite dapper uncle were interested in that sort of thing. And could possibly kill all the things. He was directly in front of me, and I could tell Dean was just barely holding back from doing something stupid. I prayed Crowley didn't cross any lines. We were not equipped to go head to head with the King of Hell.

"While I appreciate a good pop culture reference as much as anyone, the whole 'Moose Squirrel' thing couldn't possibly extend to me, based on the nature of the source material." I smiled nervously, shooting a look at Dean, glad to see he was smirking with approval. As long as Dean could smirk, we were safe as houses, as far as I was concerned.

"Mouthy little chit, aren't we?" He pulled out a chair and conjured himself a glass, helping himself to our whiskey.

"What do you want, Crowley?" Sam sounded long suffering. Dean just stared silently with a clenched jaw. It seemed being leery of Crowley was a good life decision.

"Why, Moose!" His faux indignation was laid on pretty thick. "Can't the King of Hell take a break from the drudgery of torturing souls to visit two old friends?"

"Can the King of Hell refrain from talking about himself in the third person?" I mumbled just under my breath. Sam snorted and Dean shot me a look that screamed shut the hell up.

"No." Dean responded to Crowley.

"On both counts." Sam whispered to me. I nearly giggle snorted. I always do that at the wrong time. I blushed when attention shifted to me. I grabbed my glass and moved to the sink in the kitchenette. The open floor plan allowed me to see and hear, but Dean was between Crowley and I. I opened the fridge, hiding my blush and taking a moment to calm myself.

"I would like to know how such a fetching little creature could learn such a nasty business..." Crowley leaned conspiratorially toward Dean. "But after seeing the mouth on her, it makes much more sense." His words and tone of voice made me stiffen, but I felt like it was important to keep a poker face. I mostly didn't want Dean to get a wild, chivalrous hair up his ass and get himself killed. Or demonified... Or whatever. I had to look out for Dean any way I could, and helping him keep his cool was definitely a way I could help.

I returned to the table with a beer for Dean and I, sitting close enough to him that I could lay a hand on his leg under the table. God knew if he was going to go, he would go whether I wanted him to or not, but I hoped the contact would have a calming affect. I gave his thigh a squeeze.

"If you don't leave now Crowley, I swear to God I'll-" Dean's voice was menacing. It sent chills up my spine.

Crowley wasn't as impressed. "You'll what, Dean? Glare at me to death? You're only weapon against me is far, far away."

Sam moved, standing on the other side of Dean, his hand doing a better job of keeping his brother seated than I could ever hope to. I noticed his other hand was wrapped around a bottle of water. I prayed it was holy, just in case.

"Get to the point, Crowley." Dean's voice was gruff.

"Just a friendly visit. When I hear about such a sweet morsel traveling with my former wing man, I make a point to stop in, say hello... share some old memories." He took a ship of the whiskey. "I see your taste hasn't changed." He grimaced after the gulp of cheap whiskey.

I did my damnedest to hold my tongue. It wasn't easy, let me tell you. Actually, it was super difficult, as evidenced by the fact that I really couldn't do it. "Were you this douchey as a Demon, Dean?" Sam coughed a bit and Crowley's brows rose.

"She knows?" He sounded surprised and disappointed. Apparently he had hoped to run me off too. Dean released the smarmiest smirk I had ever seen. It spread across his face as he nodded, and I gave his leg another squeeze.

"Fine. Well." Crowley stood. He leveled his gaze to me and I stopped breathing a bit. "Keep an eye on this one, Squirrel. It would be a shame if one of the many people whose bad side you are on got a hold of her. She is quite the prize."

I swallowed hard. I got pretty banged up on our last case, and I have to admit, the feeling of gulping down my fear was not pleasant.

"That a threat?" Dean's voice was dangerous, ominous.

"Now, Squirrel, we are old friends, you and I. It wasn't a threat, just a simple statement of fact. I have no reason to dip my hands into your little Ozzy and Harriet life. Right now, anyway."

I squeezed Dean's leg, resisting the urge to march over to Crowley and slap him silly. Of course, I was working on convincing Dean I could take care of myself, and part of that is not being a reckless idiot, so I pursed my lips and stayed in my seat. I blinked, and Crowley was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against Dean. He was tense, and I couldn't blame him. "What a douche bag." I shook my head, laughing nervously. Sam nodded his agreement, and headed back to his research. Dean and I didn't move or make a sound for a long time. I figured he was probably trying to find a way to use this interaction with Crowley to form an argument for why it would be safer for me to stay behind. I couldn't, wouldn't let that happen. I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear. "It's okay, Dean."

He spared a glance for me before getting up from the table and moving away from me. "Oookay. Well, better safe than sorry, so... I'm going to go tell Kirsti not to sleep with any smooth talking British guys for the foreseeable future. And put some devil's traps under her carpet.

"Have fun." Sam's eyes moved from Dean to me, and he gave me his I told you so face. I gathered some supplies to demon proof my friend's house, gathered my dog, and headed out, formulating a plan as I walked.

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><p>an - It's been a rough month, so keep in mind that it won't take too long to get to some smut this story. So... yay?


	3. American Pie

Dean was still brooding a few hours later when I returned. My stomach was saying it was dinner time, and my stomach was never wrong about food related business. I stopped at the corner store and picked up some groceries, because as much as I hated to admit it, I was into Dean enough to buy his goodwill with food. The boys were combing through news articles online, and barely looked up when Ninja and I came back in.

I let them keep at it, and I did the best thing I could think of to take Dean's mind off of whatever vague threat to my well being he had imagined. I baked a damn pie. It made me think of the night we met, and I had to admit, it was calming, working the dough for the crust and mixing the filling. It felt oddly... normal. If Dean needed time, who could blame him. Eventually, the oven would heat up,and if my last experience providing Dean with baked goods was any indication, he would melt like so much butter when he smelled the cinnamon, apple, brown sugar and nutmeg.

I blushed as my thoughts inevitably strayed to the morning after we first met. I could recall the feel of his fingers brushing my skin as he restrained me to my bed, knowing me well enough even then to know I would run off into trouble if he didn't. I forced out a gust of air, trying to keep my focus on my baking. I was going to need a cold shower or some time alone with Dean if I didn't put a leash on my libido.

I tossed the pie in the oven and started making big, thick hamburger patties. My dad had taught me well. I was like his grill master padawan. I was going to put Dean in a food coma if need be.

"Check this out..." Sam zoomed in on an article and turned his notebook so Dean could take a closer look. After rinsing my hands off, I leaned in behind Dean, closer than I needed to to be able to see. He leaned back toward me a bit, and I laid my hands on his shoulders, rubbing at the tension. Devious? Yes. Satisfying?Hell yes.

The article was from about two days ago. Dean read it aloud, which is good, since I couldn't make my eyes focus on anything but the way his tight black shirt hugged the muscles in his shoulders.

"Locals are outraged today as another missing person is reported in the Milwaukee Junction area. Robert Stratton, 37, was last seen Saturday evening leaving Royal BBQ Pizza around 8 pm last Saturday evening. Security footage and metro transport confirm that Stratton did not board his bus or reach the Mt. Elliot bus stop. In addition to Mr. Stratton, who is a local hero and fire fighter, four other individuals have been reported as missing, all from the same area. All of the missing persons are some of Detroit's most selfless civil servants, and all were last seen between 8pm and 12am in the area around the Packard. As the city cries out for answers, local law enforcement remains baffled. If you have any information, yada, yada, yada. Sounds like our kinda thing."

Dean was still gruff. I hoped the pie smell would hurry up and permeate our cabin, so the bug up Dean's ass would scurry on out of here. Of course, if the pie didn't work, I did have a back up plan. "Anything on the other missing people?"

"The first disappearance was about four weeks ago. There has been one every weekend since." Sam grabbed his computer and started scrolling through the newspaper archives. "First was a teacher, Jessica Abbot, a 29 year old teacher from Tennessee." Dean nodded at Sam to continue, and I sat down to take notes. "So, Abbot was March 1st, the on the 7th Greg Charles went missing. He is a 45 year old cop from the area. On the 13th, Marge Baxter, 67 and a nurse, and on the 19th Josh Peterson, a 23 year old paramedic disappeared. Most recent was on the 28th."

"They don't have much in common." I sighed. I had a feeling I would be behind a computer most of the night. I stared at my notes, willing something to jump out at me.

"I'm going to plot out a map of the disappearances, give us a place to start looking." Sam stared tapping away at his computer.

"I'll look in to the area for demonic omens and signs of hauntings." Dean shot a look my way and my heart fluttered, because I'm still 12 on the inside. "I smell pie. Are you making pie?" I nodded. "Alright, Olivia is on pie duty." He didn't smile, but from his tone I figured I had made a pretty good choice.

"How about pie duty, and I'll look into the victims, too. See if they have anything in common."

"Any bodies found, Sammy?"

Sam barely looked up as he shook his head.

"So they could be alive somewhere?" There was relief in my voice. Ganking bad guys was way more satisfying when you actually got to save someone.

"We'll leave first thing tomorrow." Dean sounded distracted, already engrossed in the research that I knew drove him nuts.

I tossed the burgers in the fridge to marinate, and I got to work on my assignments, making a bet with myself about how long it would take Dean to give up researching in favor of pie.

My pie was cooling and Dean kept sneaking glances at it as I set a burger next to his computer. "It's not ready. Don't even think about sneaking a piece" I suppressed a grin as I set Sam's plate down and tucked into my own burger, searching news stories, county records and criminal histories of the victims. Sam had emailed me a copy of the map he was working on, and I cross referenced everything I found with any evidence of a haunting that Dean came across to figure out what had happened. We were a well oiled research machine, and Dean was hating every minute of it.

"I friggen hate this part. And you are teasing me with pie. You are a pie tease!" Dean snatched up his burger and took an angry bite. "Oh, God..." His moan was an exaggeration, but Sam rolled his eyes anyways. "This is good!" He complemented me around his mouthful of food and I shook my head, taking a bite of my own burger.

I took it as a complement that we ate in silence. Distraction achieved.

"Okay, the burger is done. Pie?" Dean pushed his plate away, eye's wide and hopeful. Doof. I laughed and shook my head, not saying a word as I handed my notes to Sam. Okay, maybe I was a pie tease. Sue me. I grabbed the dinner plates and walked to the kitchen at a leisurely pace. I ran hot water and slowly plugged the sink, dripping in dish soap one drop at a time. I swear to god, Dean pouted. I laughed, and slid the plates in the sink before cutting up the pie. I plopped some vanilla ice cream on the still warm slices of apple pie.

"Wow." Sam looked up from my notes. I scooped the last of the vanilla onto the pie. "I just noticed something in your notes."

"What?" I started to move around the kitchen island when Dean cleared his throat, gesturing to the pie. I rolled my eyes and went back for the pie, grabbing the plates. Dean rubbed his hands together and dug in before I could even sit.

"All these people are literally heroes. They have seen some crap. Tours of duty, gangland shootings... Pretty heavy stuff."

"So someone is going after local heroes?" I took a bite of my pie. Sam and I were one bite in. Dean's slice was almost gone.

"Sort there's more to it. I hacked the central data base for medical records shared between local clinics and the public hospitals. All the vics were seeing the same psychiatrist, Dr. Jean Grey."

Dean and I both sniggered. We shared a look and Dean smiled. I blushed. Story of my life. Sam rolled his eyes. "Anyway, all of the victims started attending Dr. Grey's ptsd support group about six weeks ago. And Dr. Grey? I cant find any record of her practicing anywhere prior to the formation of the support group."

My eyes widened. Well. That was definitely the kind of connection we'd been looking for. Dean looked at his empty plate. Whether he was considering the new information or the possibility of more pie was anyone's guess.

"Okay then, Detroit in the morning to hunt... whatever Dr. Laura is." Looks like Dean was considering the intel after all. "We better get some shut eye. AFTER seconds on pie." And the pie. He opened his mouth to say more, and I shot him a look, daring him to suggest leaving me behind. Clearly I didn't intimidate him, because I could see the flurry of words waiting to escape his lips.

"Dishes won't do themselves." I stood, admittedly rather abruptly, and headed into the kitchen, turning on music so I couldn't hear Dean's arguments. I was pleased to see, when Sam and Dean said their goodnights, that Dean headed into my room to go to bed.

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><p>an- Lemon is coming!


	4. Good Morning, Good Morning

Maybe subconsciously I was concerned that Dean would sneak out on me again. It could also be that I was sleeping with a super hot guy whose physical affections I'd spent a stupid amount of time denying myself. Whatever it was, it caused me to sleep draped over Dean, his arms around me and his chest rising and falling beneath me. I inhaled the scent of him, and smiled. I was tempted to stay nestled in beside him, but that morning, I had a promise to keep.

I dug in my duffle, pulling out a scarf. Dean stretched his legs. Wakefulness was coming. I had to work fast. Grinning, I looped the scarf around his ankles a couple of times. I left it loose, for now. My grin broadened as I picked up the discarded pair of thigh high panty hose I had donned our first night in Minnesota. I climbed on the bed, straddling Dean, the only barrier between us his boxers and my panties. I moaned to myself as I moved a bit. This was going to be Fan. Friggen. Tastic. I bent down, kissing up Dean's chest and neck, nibbling as I went. He stirred more, stretching his arms and arching his back, moving against me. I distracted him with a kiss before employing all of the skills I learned as a member of the future farmers of America, double looping each of his wrists with a stocking, lunching for the head board and tying each off on either side of the bed, wrapping him up tight. Dean's eyes flew open, wide with alarm as I slid off of him, securing his feet to the foot board.

"Good morning, Dean." I grinned. He struggled.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean was not amused as I straddled him again. I moved a bit, and Dean's eyes widened (I didn't think they could get any wider) before narrowing into a glare. "I'm serious. We have a… thing… to hunt." Dean's train of thought was lost as I moved, making myself tingle and him grow hard.

"And hunt a thing we will. I just wanted to reminisce on the morning after we met for a bit."

Dean's eyes slid closed. "You are seriously revenge kidnapping me right now?" His voice was rough and hoarse, and he growl moaned as I raked my teeth across a nipple.

"I once heard someone say that it's not kidnapping, as long as it's their own bed and you let them out as soon as you're done." I kissed his jaw line.

"Done what?" He rasped, straining against the restraints. He was not a fan of relinquishing control.

The kisses moved down to his collar bone. "With taking ninja for a walk, loading the truck… a couple other things." I winked, hopping off of Dean and the bed.

"Come on!" He yelled.

"Oh, I will. And so will you. Trust me." His frustrated groan made me laugh as I threw on some pants and headed out of the room.

"Where's Dean?" I tried to look as innocent as possible when Sam asked after his brother.

"He's just a little tied up." I blushed, but hell, in for a penny, in for a pound. I wiggled my brows at Sam and he laughed.

"Son of a BITCH!" Dean was REALLY not amused. I laughed as I shut the bedroom door.

I wasn't even gone half an hour. Dean glared at me as I entered the room. I smiled at his pouting face, licking my lips as I approached. Sam had graciously volunteered to get the hell out of the cabin for a while, and was loading up the vehicles. "Sam said everything would be ready to go in about 20 minutes." I took in the sight of Dean. This…. This was a good life decision.

I couldn't say that I was surprised when Dean resisted my kiss. I couldn't blame him, either, but I made it my goal to change his mind about his… situation. Besides, turn about was fair play, and at least he'd end up getting laid. I didn't even get that benefit when he did the same to me.

I crawled between Dean's legs, pulling on the waist band of his boxers. He sprung free, and I looked at him- all of him, for the first time. It was, quite frankly, magnificent. I knew that Dean and I would never have a normal relationship. We'd probably never get married, or live in suburbia, and have the kind of stability the girls I grew up with aimed for. I was okay with that… because what I could have was a big strong man to have my back and remind me to clean my gun, and take care of my reawakened physical needs. So what if we never made any promises to one another? That was fine. I wasn't going to ask for a promise. I wouldn't need one. I had decided last night to make sure that he just never had to look elsewhere. For anything. And I was going to start it today.

I smiled as Dean hardened under my gaze. I felt powerful, knowing I could have that affect on him. I knelt down, running my nails along the sensitive skin on top of his thighs, then softly caressing him. "I'm a little out of practice."

Dean had finally figured out what was going on, and the protests stopped. His eyes were wide. "Practice all you want…"

I wrapped my fingers around him, and he groaned, his eyes sliding shut. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" He sounded strained. Good.

"I want you to watch me."

Dean groaned at my words, his eyes snapping open and following my movements as I lowered my head, wrapping my lips around him. His eyes flashed as he watched me move. Slowly, I took all of him into my mouth, relaxing my throat and ignoring the tenderness from my injuries there. I didn't stop until my lips were wrapped around his base.

"Son of a bitch." His voice was strained as he fought his binds and I chuckled, the sound vibrating around and through him as I drew up slowly, all the way to the top. I kissed him there, and then did the whole thing again, faster this time. He fought harder, the head board shaking as he strained. I increased my speed, running my hands up and down his legs and torso as I moved. His hips bucked. I planned on making this quick, and just for him. We had people to save, after all.

The head board groaned, protesting as his muscles strained. I bobbed faster, my attention focused solely on making him feel amazing. I heard a snap, screeching bit when Dean's arms snaked around me. I couldn't bother to be disappointed that my nylons had been ripped in two, as he pulled my mouth into a kiss, yanked my jeans off in a fluid movement. I gasped as he grinned, pulling me on top of him. I was straddling his hips, hovering above him. I heard another snap. I now had a ripped pair of panties to throw out with his ripped shirt and my newly ripped nylons.

He held my in place with a hand on each hip, our eyes meeting for a brief moment before he pulled me down, thrusting his hips up. I swear, he roared as he filled me. I may have done the same, impaled there on his length. On top, he touched places in me he'd never reached before. I cried out, and he guided my movements, leading me to ride him until I panted wantonly. He sat up, wrapping his arms around me as we moved together, my legs wrapped around him.

We shook, and moaned, thrust, grinded and pawed at each other. His lips claimed mine, and he dominated me with his mouth. My back arched, and he called out my name as we both detonated, writhing together as we came.

We collapsed on the bed, Dean smoothing and kissing my hair. I whimpered from loss when he slipped out of me. "If that's what I get for tying you up, I'm gonna have to do it more often."

"Promise?" My voice was breathy.

Dean's eyes smoldered at my response, and we may have dove in to round two if not for the sound of the Impala's trunk slamming just outside. Silently, we dressed, getting ready to head out on our next adventure… together.

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><p>an- This was a particularly fun chapter to write! I hope you all enjoy it! It's different than my last lemons, so I can't wait to hear what you all think!


	5. I Want You

Since receiving proof of life on just about all of everyone's nightmare monsters, I'd faced my share of ghosts. It was poor preparation for facing Detroit. The city itself was a ghost. Big, hulking, shadowed, and eerie. It was long past dark when our 12 hour drive ended at the Packard Hotel. It was right across from the historic and abandoned Packard Plant.

The level of decay in the Milwaukee Junction area was staggering, compared to the metropolis that could be found less than a mile away. The monolith of the abandoned factory was looming above and the feeling of neglect permeating the air made me feel oppressed.

I was indulging the anticipation that the idea of being in a hotel room with Dean brought. He hopped out of the impala and headed to the office to get us a room and I retrieved Ninja from the old 86 For Lariat w/ a 5.0 liter Mustang v8 (Not to brag or anything). I shot Sam a smile. He'd driven my truck most of the way to give Dean and I some privacy.

I had a spring in my step, having spent my last four hours alone with Dean, teasing, being teased, and even getting a nap in. Our little break through back in Minnesota was making for a very happy Olivia. I think Ninja could tell the difference, because he pranced like a little king on his leash as I walked him around the lot. I had to smile at his antics. You'd almost think HE was the one who'd gotten laid twice in as many days.

I kept my eyes moving, a hand near my silver knife. Sam and Dean made me feel safe. Ninja was a 250 pound teddy bear, but he protected me, too. I loved the feeling, but Sam and Dean couldn't teleport and Ninja could really only deter human threats. I knew better than to be complacent.

When Dean emerged from the office, Ninja pulled at his leashed, rushing toward Dean, panting in excitement. I grinned at the panicked look Dean gave us as we barreled toward him. I barely got Ninja to heel with two inches to spare before he would have been able to plant a paw on each of Dean's shoulders. He could pretend to be horrified, but it was just a matter of time before Ninja charmed the pants of Dean. I don't know where the damn dog learned to be so stubborn.

"Rooms are on this side, first floor. I got a King for you and-"

"Awe, Dean," I tried using Dean's smirk myself. "A king room for Ninja and I? You shouldn't have!" It was nice, to finally feel comfortable enough to use my sarcastic powers for good, rather than evil. Okay, it was still pretty evil, but it was way more fun. Dean raised a brow. "Oh, all right. I guess you can share with us." I grinned as Sam snickered, taking his own key. Less than 48 hours ago I was so terrified of my feelings for Dean, I would have insisted on my own room, or slept in the truck. I was a ninny.

I didn't peak over my shoulder to see if Dean followed until I was unlocking the door to our room. I have to admit, I was relieved to catch a glimpse of him as he sidled up behind me. I may have told myself to stop questioning my… whatever it was… with Dean a bunch of times in the last day or two, but that didn't mean I would listen. It was sort of like a reflex. I smiled as Dean entered my bubble, his hands on my hips as he pressed against my back

"Sam is bringing his laptop over." Dean did not sound pleased by that.

"Work to do, bad things to gank. Our work is never done." My voice caught as Dean pressed a kiss to the treble clef tattooed on the back of my neck. My words turned into a moan as Dean pulled me back against him so I could feel a shape in his jeans that indicated exactly what type of activities he wanted to enjoy this evening. I froze, excited but a little shocked as the room key fell from my hands. I didn't think I'd ever get used to the idea of Dean wanting me. I had barely come to terms with wanting him, for crying out loud!

Dean Chuckled, scooping the key up and shooting a warning glance at Ninja, who sidled closer, obviously aiming for his own kiss. My eyes widened as Dean straightened. He spun me, my back suddenly pressed against the door. My head rested on the cool wood, and I whimpered as he kissed along my neck. He traced my bruises, finally starting to show progress in heeling, as he went. One of his hands explored up under my shirt and the other expertly unlocked the room door. I didn't want to think about he got so good at that- so I didn't.

I had a lingering ache in my ribs that Dean was mindful of as he scooped me up, setting me on the edge of the bed. The bruised rib made panting a pain in the ass, but I couldn't help it as Dean peeled off his shirt. This, right here, was my happy place.

The room was questionable, but as a hunter, you see so many weird bodily fluids that third rate hotel rooms don't even make you bat an eyelash anymore. Dean guided me back on the bed, his hands back up my shirt as we fervently kissed. My jeans were unbuttoned, sliding down my hips to my knees before I even knew what was happening, my shirt up over my head before my brain could register our time crunch, and I was moaning loudly as Dean's fingers played me like a musical instrument. My nails dragged tracks down his back, trying to bring him closer. I scrambled with his pants, doing everything in my power to release him as quickly as possible, because damnit, I needed more.

"I didn't think you wanted t leave this in the truck bed- Damnit Dean!" My eyes snapped open, as wide as saucers as I peeked around Dean, scrambling for my shirt and flushing red. I realized, too late to do any good, that we never kicked the door shut.

Dean smirked over his shoulder at his brother, whose eyes were firmly focused on Ninja, across the room. My very vocal dog had chosen now to be seen, rather than heard. "Sammy!" He looked like the cat who'd tried to eat the canary, but had been interrupted. "Thanks for dropping by. Too bad you have to leave so soon. See you tomorrow. Get out." I shot a glance at Dean. Thank god he was between Sam and I… but his current position made pulling my pants up impossible. He looked down and laughed, shifting a bit so I could scoot my jeans up.

"I can come back in, like, two minutes. That should be long enough for you to finish up, right Dean?"

I threw a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh. Dean had on a bitch face that I was starting to learn must be genetic. My laughter finally broke free, and as I shook, a pang moved through my bruised rips. I sucked in a breath, ignoring the concerned look that Dean gave me. "Let's just get this over with. Not that you aren't a joy, Sam. I'm just, uh, tired." I blushed, and Dean leaned down to kiss me, a promise of what was to come.

"Dude." Sam's jaw was rigid, and the look of distaste he bestowed upon us was, I have to admit, freaking hilarious. He dropped my duffle on the ground in the corner, kicking the door shut. "You left this in the back of the truck in your hurry to get to bed."

Dean looked suggestive. I blushed more. Sam rolled his eyes. It seemed that was going to become our little dance. I'd better get used to it.

Sam set up shop at our little table, occasionally screwing up his face in distaste as, I assume, the impossible to unsee image of us very nearly naked kept flashing across his eyes. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.

Our slightly awkward silence turned into a concentrated (but still awkward) research session. I was cross legged on the bed, leaning back against the head board. I had to work really hard not to focus my own concentration on Dean's body, stretched out on the bed next to me. I kept feeling his eyes on me, and every time we brushed against one another, a shock of sensation jolted my attention away from the papers in front of me.

I was super relieved when Sam spoke up. "Check this out- I used a program to review the locations of the disappearances that I documented on my map." He handed me his note book and Dean leaned in close to look at Sam's work. My eyes traced the spots on the street view map. The five disappearances very nearly formed a star, and at the center, was the hulking profile of the abandoned Packard Auto Plant.

"Well, shit." I muttered. Dean leaned over to hand the computer back to Sam, and his warmth and scent enveloped me. I was glad for the progress in the case. It was selfish, but mostly I was glad because it meant Sam might leave us alone soon.

"Okay then. Looks like we are going to have a look at the old abandoned factory tomorrow." I knew that was where we would be headed before Dean spoke the words, but that didn't mean I liked them.

Sam nodded his agreement, and I couldn't help but wonder, as I always did at this point of a hunt, what the hell I was getting myself in to.

* * *

><p>an- Lime-ish. I have to say, this installment starts with some gratuitous-ness. Don't hate me for being smutty! ;)


	6. This Must Be The Place

I didn't get to wonder long. Dean had his own ideas in mind for how to spend the rest of our waking hours that evening, and anticipating tomorrow's events did not rate for him. At all. Ninja was on the floor, dreaming puppy dreams, and Sam wasn't gone for two minutes before Dean's hands were on me. We had been on the verge of exploding nearly the whole day, and I expected something fast and furious, but Dean surprised me as he pressed a lingering, tender kiss to my lips, his hands releasing my hair from its braid and running his fingers through my dark tresses. I sighed my pleasure as I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding his lips to mine. I felt him, more than heard him, chuckle as he disengaged.

"Get on the bed." His commanding tone had its expected influence on me. Doing as he said made me tingle, down to the core. My eyes widened, and my breath quickened, and Dean smirked. Damned if I was going to let him tell me what to do out in the real world, but here, in my happy place, I was glad to let him be the boss. I licked my lips in anticipation, and did as he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, poised and ready for whatever he would ask of me. I prayed he asked a lot… and often.

He moved towards me, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the room. I knelt on the floor in front of me, and placed his palm on my chest, slowly pushing me back on the bed. I did as his hands bid me to do, closing my eyes as he started to slide my jeans off of me, so slowly I wanted to scream. I had so much pent up desire, I was almost frustrated he didn't rip another pair of my panties as he pulled them down, slowly, revealing me to him.

My back was flush to the bed, and I started to get nervous that I couldn't see what he was doing, whether or not he was enjoying it, if I was responding correctly. I propped myself up on my elbows. "Relax. Take off your shirt and lay back." I did my best to obey, quickly pulling my black shirt up over my head and returning to the mattress. I had no idea what he had planned, but I knew it was going to be good.

I was surprised when I felt Dean's fingers start to massage the pressure points in my ankles. I started to move, and Dean chuckled, sliding his hands up my legs until he had reached the bed, propping himself there over me. He placed a kiss on my lips, and my eyes fluttered open. When my blue eyes met with his green, the tenderness I saw there made me gasp a bit. "Trust me." Dean's voice was hoarse, and all I could do was nod.

I felt the bed shift as he got up, and I closed my eyes as his fingers again started applying pressure along the muscles of my feet and legs. He was turning me to jelly as he moved up, releasing the tension from first my right foot, then my left… His deft hands worked on my calves, up the front of my legs, and back down the outside. He massaged my hamstrings, placing a kiss inside each of my knees. I could feel myself melting into the mattress as he worked up my inner thigh. I was floating, so relaxed I found myself feeling detached from my body. I felt his breath on my core… I moaned low, and long, as his fingers opened me, the massage moving to my most intimate of places. He placed kisses all around me, always missing the center of my pleasure. When he finally placed his tongue on me, my response in my relaxed state was nearly instant. Compared to the leisurely pace with which he had worked inch by inch up my legs, the stimulation to my woman hood was almost desperate. It made me desperate. I was so relaxed I felt leaden, but so aroused all I wanted to do was tangle my fingers in Dean's hair and urge him on… Not that he needed it.

The furious massaging movements of his tongue on me brought me closer, and closer. I was slick with anticipation. When he slid two fingers in side of me, it was the last straw. I shuddered, and my orgasm flowed through my body like a chain of explosions going off under my skin, starting right at my center. He had worked so hard to relax me, so that the jolt of my completion would feel that much more intense.

I was still feeling the tremulous aftershocks of the way his mouth had made love to me as the bed shifted under his weight, and I felt the warmth of him next to me. "Roll over." His whisper sent breath across my neck, and I shivered with even more anticipation as I did as he instructed. He unhooked my bra, and I lay with my eyes closed, still feeling orgasmic, as he began to trace my tattoos. He started at the bottom, in the small of my back, using the four leaf clover tattooed there as an outline for his fingers. Every time he applied pressure to my muscles, coaxing me further into relaxation, I gasped. My body was still reeling from the stimulation it had just received. It was the most pleasurable combination I had every experienced, and I whimpered longing every time I felt his fingers move.

Radiating outwards from the clover, he paid attention to the every muscle below my waist, kneading, caressing, and kissing as he went. His touched moved upwards. He reached the tattoo just between my shoulder blades, and I sighed as he touched the letters that spelled out "Amelia" on my back. He kissed each of the wings surrounding the scripting softly, and began to rub. I was nearly asleep when he slid a hand under my torso, rolling me over. My eyes would barely open as Dean moved his hands across the front of my shoulders and down each arm, and back up again. I was vaguely aware of warmth on my breasts and a tingling in my center, and I waded my way back to awareness.

My lips parted as Dean worshiped my body with his mouth and fingers. His nibbled on the peaks of my breasts, slid his hands up over my shoulders and tangled his fingers in my hair, licked, and laved and touched and teased until, despite the relaxation I felt, I was writhing for more.

I let out a disappointed groan as Dean moved away from me, relieving himself of his clothes. As he stood before me, taking in the sight of my naked body, I realized that this, right here, was how a man and a woman should be… In awe of each other, completely captivated, desperate and protective, cherishing, devouring, always wanting, but never deprived. What we were doing in that hotel room was the reason for life itself, and I had waited to live for far too long.

I couldn't take the idea of waiting for Dean to come to me. I slid off the bed and ran to him, our naked bodies meshing in to one. The first time we had come together, it had been collision after collision, leading up to a grand explosion. This time, as he lifted me in his arms and lowered me onto his manhood, it was reverent. We weren't two ships on a crash course in the night. No longer were we a bomb, one tick away from a deadly detonation. We moved together, drawing each other ever nearer to the moment when we were as close as two people could physically be.

I felt him spasm as he clutched me, and I shuddered as we reached completion together. He poured himself into me, and I gladly took every drop he could give, basking in one of the most beautiful moments I had ever experienced.

"That was…" Dean panted.

"Better than Casa Erotica and Magic Fingers?"

He nodded, kissing my forehead and wrapping his arms tighter around me as we drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p>an- Yay! Okay, I promise to use a little more discretion regarding smut from here on out. Unless you don't want me to. In which case, let me know, I've got a ton of Dean related woohoo floating around in my deranged little noggin just waiting to be let out!


	7. Old Man River

It was after dark when we got into Detroit, and even then, the Packard seemed to big to be allowed. Now, in the unforgiving light of day, I found my self staring at the ghost of a better past with a sense of awe. There were no shadows to soften the industrial lines, or hide just how much the old automotive factory towered over me. It was... ginormous. That was the only word to do it justice.

The five disappearances fanned out from the hulking shell-like the spokes of a wheel. The Packard was not only a central location. It also had everything most monsters would look for in a lair. It was sprawling, abandoned, forlorn, dingy, and just clichéd enough to feel like home. I shook my head to myself. Someday, I hoped to hunt something that lurked around a Four Seasons.

As it was, I didn't have time to indulge in wishful thinking. The damned this was going to take forever to comb. My eyes narrowed at the historic old building. I'd had a pretty freaking fabulous night last night, and I would be damned if I let spending a few hours in a derelict building take me off of cloud nine. Dean rested a hand possessively on the small of my back, and I felt a rush of that same unnamed feeling that I'd had the night before. His touch calmed my nerves even as it excited me. I wanted to be back in our hotel room. Dean and I had barely been dressed for 20 minutes, and already I wanted to be alone with him, free of all of our pesky clothes. This was going to be a looooong day.

The closer we got to the building, the more heightened my senses became as nervous energy coursed through me. I wouldn't ever deny being afraid. Not being scared of the things we faced didn't mean you were brave. It meant you were stupid. I've proven myself to be stupid about a lot of things, but even I wasn't stupid enough to head into the beast's lair without some trepidation. A reasonable amount. Only, like, a metric ass ton.

I smiled at Dean as he moved closer to me. I may not deny my fear to myself, but I sure as hell wouldn't admit it to Dean. Our jobs were tough enough without adding the weight of my feelings to the already heavy burden every hunter carried. Besides, after last night, I felt confident that I could withstand anything, as long as he was nearby.

"Security." Sam whispered at us before turning towards the advancing rent a cop.

"Can I help you folks?" The guard was oooold. Like, Wilfred Brimley, "diabeetus" old. What little hair he had was snowy white, with a bushy white Mr. Monopoly Moustache. The liver spots, rotund belly, and the way he huffed as he walked up made it clear that he hadn't been effective at guarding anything but his life alert pendant in years. I felt a swell of confidence. Old people freaking loved me. I donned my most guileless smile and directed every ounce of innocence I could muster at the guard.

"Sir." Sam held out his hand and the old man gave it a shake. "I'm Sam. This is Olivia and Dean. We're doing a story on the history and importance of America's great beacons of industry. We wanted to feature the Packard."

The old man eyed us each in turn. I didn't know how he saw out from under his caterpillar brows, but whatever he saw, his face was suspicious. "They didn't tell me I would be doing a tour this week. I do the tours, so they woulda told me." The old man was gruff, but obviously proud of his little place in the world. "shouldn't you kids have some kind of boss or secretary to set that up?"

"Well..." Sam was grasping at straws. The old man was obviously still pretty sharp.

"We freelance, online." I cut in, and the words tumbled out of my mouth in a rush. "We travel around, going all over the place, visiting pieces of Americana. You can learn so much from the past, sir. If no one buys the article, well, the more the better for us." I leaned towards him conspiratorially. "We're going to write a book. These places are filled with ghosts." The old man's brows rose and Sam sputtered a bit at my admission. "Metaphorical ghosts."

The guard looked thoughtful, and Sam and Dean looked relieved. "A book, eh? Well, I've been around this here plant for years. I could tell you some stories!"

"That would be great! The boys can take some pictures and notes inside. I'd love to interview someone familiar the site." I hoped that I didn't over play it with the gushing. It had been a while since my college theater days. I was rusty.

"Hmmm." As the guard gave us another once over, I half expected him to offer me some quaker oats. I felt one of my trademark nervous laughs percolating just below the surface. "Well, young lady, _you_ sure don't talk like a vandal." He scratched the large bald spot on the crown of his head, and I brightened my smile. How the hell do vandals talk, anyway?

"We would never do anything to compromise the historical integrity of one any location we visited." That was a big fat lie, but at least Sam had his head in the game.

"That other fella with you, Dean, was it? He doesn't look like a writer." It was hard to tell under his eyebrows, but I think the old man had narrowed his eyes.

"I keep the car running. I'm a gear head. Detroit is my Mecca."

I was able to restrain a relieved sigh as the guard smiled at Dean. It took like, 10 years off his face. He only looked 90, instead of 100. The smile I shot at Sam was definitely relieved, as Dean and Diabeetus started to enthusiastically discuss things that go vroom. I knew enough about cars to know that their conversation was way above my pay grade, so I just did my best to smile and nod in appropriate places. Sam had stepped away and was on his phone.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't find the tour schedule online."

My ribs ached as I held in a laugh. The Wilfred Brimley like guard wore an ancient version of the Bitch Face. "For rude young men who interrupt their elders, it's half past never, so far as I'm concerned."

Sam's eyebrows shot up, and his mouth worked, but nothing came out. It was all I could do to keep from laughing myself top pieces, but I held it together. Barely.

"For your friends here, I'd be happy to take you guys through tomorrow afternoon. It's too dangerous to let you all in without a guard there to make sure your safe. I hope you don't mind walking while you indulge a long winded old man, young lady."

I cursed to myself. If what we were looking for was in the Packard, the old man would be getting way more protection than he gave. Dean gave me a nod over the guard's shoulder. Looked like he had a contingency. "Are you kidding? I can't wait! I'll bet tomorrow is the most interesting day of our trip."

"You can come , too." The old man looked at Sam balefully. "If you learn some manners. And cut your hair. You look like a hippy."

I almost lost it at that, and Dean's eyes were filled with mirth as he smirked at his brother. "Hippy."

The wizened guard's eyebrows rose as he chuckled. Thank god, Dean drew the old man into another car related bro-ment. I led a still stupefied Sam back toward the hotel, thankful to be back in the room... Anxiously, I waited for Dean to return.

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><p>AN- I had to slip in some plot. I hope you all are enjoying Olivia's misadventures so far in part two as much as I am enjoying writing them! I love reviews, thanks to all who have followed over from part one and reviewed, and all the new readers just checking Olivia's story out for the first time.


	8. Carry That Weight

Dean caught up with us before we got back to the hotel. We were close enough to the plant that it had seemed like a waste to drive, so we hoofed it the short distance to the Packard plant. Sam and Dean had their heads together about what little we learned, and I took Ninja for a quick walk. Ninja had a lot of pent-up energy. Sam and him had become buddies since Dean had taken up such a large chunk of my attention, but nothing could take the place of quality time spent between a pup and his person.

We moved leisurely through the parking lot as my rottie did his own brand of investigation, sniffing and marking. By the time we moved back towards the hotel room, he had laid claim to most of the parking lot, including the left rear tire of the Impala. I probably should have scolded Ninja, but he probably wouldn't have taken it too seriously, since I was giggling like a crazy person.

Sam and Dean were already deep in discussion about the case when Ninja and I entered the room. "If the guard didn't notice anything off..."

Dean interrupted. "I think it's been a few years since he noticed much of anything." I chuckled softly, unleashing Ninja and filling his dish.

"No cold spots, electrical issues, or violent deaths." Sam was ticking off a check list, trying to narrow down our possible targets.

"So not a ghost." I plopped down next to Dean at the table and flushed, smiling as his hand settled on my thigh as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I suppose, compared to our first couple of "dates'" it was. When I peered at him from the corner of my eye, I noticed my blush had made him smile. I met his gaze with a smile of my own. For once, my flush was unrelated to anxiety or embarrassment, my butterflies a pleasant reminder of how he made me feel, and I noticed when my heart beat faster, it was excitement, not neurosis, that made the blood rush through my veins.

I was startled when he leaned over and placed an impromptu kiss on my parted lips, and I let out a sigh as my eyes slid shut. His fingers trailed up and down the top of my leg, searing a path of sparks through my jeans.

"Eh-hem, guys?"

My eyes shot open and I turned five shades of scarlet as I pulled back from Dean, ending the kiss prematurely, in my opinion. "I'm sorry." I mumbled in Sam's general direction.

"I'm not." Dean gave me a wink.

It's not that the act of kissing Dean was embarrassing. Jesus, what girl in her right mind wouldn't be proud to have that golden god on her arm? Sam was well aware of what was going on between us, being half responsible for it finally coming to fruition anyways. I loved being able to touch him when ever I wanted, however I wanted. What I didn't like, was how I could lose track of where I was and what I was doing, just looking in his eyes. I'd faced down all sorts of big bad things in the months I'd hunted alone. It had given me the impression that I'd become a bit of an automaton, the picture of self-control. As it turns out, it is much easier to control yourself when you aren't under the stress of temptation.

I took a deep breath to clear my head. "Not a ghost then." My voice was tremulous in response to Dean's kiss, and he leaned back in his chair like the God Damned king of the castle. If we weren't... whatever we were... I'd want to kick his smug, sexy ass. That's a lie, actually. I still wanted to kick his ass, the feeling was just tempered by the fact that I could kiss that smirk away any time I wanted to.

"Not a ghost." Sam shook his head. He was looking pretty proud of himself. I was the meat and cheese in a big old smug sandwich.

"The ghost thing was a long shot anyway." Dean finished off his beer and went to grab another, opening one for each of us and coming back to the table. I smiled gratefully.

I opened my case file, thumbing through papers, looking for anything we might have missed. Dean had their dad's old hunting journal open on the table, and Sam was in his usual place behind his laptop. For a few moments, the only noise in the room was the clicking of keyboard keys and the whisper of turning pages.

"Okay, so not a ghost, but whatever it is, the Packard is more than likely the lair." I was thinking out loud, but Dean nodded his agreement anyways. "Vampires, maybe?"

"They do hold on to their victims for a while." Sam looked towards Dean, whose eyes were on me questioningly. I guess with my history with vampires, he just wanted to make sure I was okay.

I tried not to meet his gaze. My ex had died a vampire, and a traitor, leading his nest straight to my house. Granted, I had killed his vamp side bitch, but she had been feeding on some poor girl on my couch. I should have killed him then, but after all we had been through, I couldn't bring myself to do it.. I was weak and sentimental, and I let him live to kill another day. He'd always been an asshole, but the violent means with which he had tried to show his gratitude still got to me, even though I'd never admit it.

"Any reason to rule out Demons?" Dean's eyes moved pointedly to Sam's and they shared another of their wordless discussions. I was starting to catch on to the super secret silent language of the Winchester club. I was fairly certain that Dean was warning Sam against talking about something that may upset me. It was sorta sweet, but what the hell kind of hunter broke down when ever conversation moved in a direction that brought back memories of tough hunts?

"Dean." He looked at me, concern on his face. "It's okay, you know? _I_ brought it up. If it's vampires, I can hack it." His eyes searched mine for a moment, nodding his approval at whatever he saw there.

"I don't know what Crowley would be up to here, Dean." Sam, bless his heart, had changed the subject. "But we can't rule anything out."

After a few hours of spit-balling, we hadn't made much progress. We weren't able to narrow it down any further than just "It's not a ghost," and things weren't looking promising. Needless to say, we were all pretty frustrated when Sam left for the library that afternoon.

When the hotel door clicked shut, Dean and I sat in silence for a moment, finishing our beers. I set my empty bottle on the table, and turned to find that Dean had been regarding me for a while. I raised a brow in question.

"You good?" He finally asked.

"I'm good, Dean." I got up and gathered our empties, heading towards the kitchenette.

"So if it was vampires?"

I sighed and turned to look at him. "I'd gank 'em. Like I did the last vamps I hunted." I knew what he was getting at, and I didn't want to go there with him, but he barreled forward, regardless of how squicky it was to talk about my ex with someone who had hunted him.

Dean stood, closing the distance between us before I had time to react. His arms wrapped around me, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead. "You are either the strongest woman I've ever met, or the craziest." I snorted a laugh. My opinion of myself leaned more towards option B. After all, I beheaded the vamp bitch that turned my ex into a blood sucker without so much as a twitch. I wouldn't have killed her for being a whore, but her being a whore definitely made ganking her sweeter. I could admit that to myself now, even if I would never tell anyone else.

I craned my neck, meeting Dean's eyes. I didn't feel up to getting psycho analyzed by someone who had seen me naked, so I ended the conversation by standing on my tip toes, engaging him in a kiss and pressing my body against his. "Sam has a lot of research to do..." I felt his breath on my neck as he whispered in my ear.

"He'll be gone for a few hours." I smiled mischievously.

Dean returned my grin. "We should probably blow off some steam. You know, clear our heads."

"It would help us focus."

I shivered as Dean's lips caressed my neck. "Focus?"

"On the hunt." I sighed the words.

"Right. We're hunting a..."

"Whatever." My eyes slid shut.

"We gotta gank the whatever."

I couldn't help but chuckle. Around Dean, it was just about impossible to help much of anything. "First, though, I need to shower." Reluctantly, Dean let me disengage, his eyes hungry and his stance tense. I could see his, um, frustration, hugged by his jeans.

"Hurry." His voice was a growl as his eyes roamed my body. I could feel his gaze like a touch, and once again, my blood rose to my skin. I blushed so often lately, I'm surprised I wasn't perma-pink. I nodded emphatically as I scurried around the room, grabbing my toiletries and scrambling out of my clothes as I rushed to the bathroom.

Dean settled on the bed, clicking on the TV. "Oooo, Casa Erotica 11." I heard as the bathroom door clicked shut. That bastard had better not burn off his "tension" by himself while I was in the bathroom. It would be just like a guy to take care of himself while a perfectly willing woman was in the bathroom. Shaving the stubble of the body hair she'd started removing for _his _benefit, I might add.

Well, if he did, he did. I would get my own back, eventually, just like I did with the whole "tying me up" thing.

Regardless, I washed and shaved as quickly as I could without turning my skin into an offering to the hungry fangs of my BIC razor. My low maintenance ways were changing now that someone saw me naked on the regular, but I was still a little rusty. After 15 minutes, I finally hopped out of the shower. I barely took the time to sop the dripping water off my body for fear I was already too late, throwing my towel over the shower bar and opting to head out of the bathroom in my birthday suit.

The bathroom door swung open, and I closed my eyes, reminding myself that Dean had seen me naked already. He'd also seen me at my most brazen, psychotic, painfully shy, beaten down, and triumphant. If Dean hadn't lost interest after all that, then there was no reason I shouldn't be able to strut my chilly little naked ass right out into the room and have my way with him.

I held tight to that thought as I stepped out of the bathroom, trying my best to look sultry. At first, my eyes were on the ground, but it only took one or two steps before I mustered up the confidence to raise them with each step into the room. Peals of water were running down my skin, raising goose bumps and causing my nipples to bead into rosebuds. I tried to ignore the fact that a smile was all I wore.

"Shit." My smile fled like the legions of hell were chasing it through perdition.

Dean was seated at the table, and I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn't spare him a glance. I was frozen in panic. Someone had dropped by while I was in the shower. Our guest turned in his chair.

"Well, hello," our guest purred. I wanted to scream, or freak out. More than that, I wanted to dig a nice big, safe hole in the ground to hide in while I waited out the waves of embarrassment that were crashing against my mind, all but penalizing me. The King of Hell let his eyes roam over my body, clearly amused by my discomfort and Dean's possessive response to his examination of my, um, assets.

I knew in the rational part of my brain that the whole mortifying experience only lasted about 5 seconds. It's too bad the part of my brain responsible for processing horrible, embarrassing things also controls the perception of time. apparently, that part of my brain was feeling disgruntled, because it drew that two seconds out until I felt like I had been frozen there for years. I hadn't even had time to breathe yet when I got hit in the face with a soft cotton shirt that Dean had launched at me. I scrambled into it, and my eyes met his when the hem settled, barely low enough to protect my modesty. "Thanks." I mouthed, rushing to my duffel and grabbing a pair of shorts. I went from naked and frisky to fully dressed and frustrated in 5.5 seconds flat.

"I have to admit, Dean... I'd heard the previous owner hadn't maintained her, and she's not your usual model, but now that I've seen her frame and chassis, and can see why you'd give it a test drive."

I had a nice jolt of anger to temper the embarrassment, so I didn't even care that my cheeks were burning as hot as I had ever felt them. His brows moved suggestively. I thought I couldn't get any redder. I thought wrong. Well, technically at that point I think I had probably turned purple , but whatever. The point was, I was more embarrassed than I can ever remember being, with no shovel available with which to dig a hole and hide.

I turned to face Crowley. Recklessly throwing myself at Crowley and beating him until he forgot what I looked like naked would have made me SO happy, but I was trying to prove to Dean he didn't need to worry about me acting like a fool on a hunt. After a deep breath, I spoke. "If you ever look at my chassis again, I will shove my foot up your undercarriage."

Dean smirked at Crowley, whose eyes narrowed at me. It was clear that I would need to brush up on my demon lore, since apparently I was hell-bent on running my mouth at the King of Hell. I edged closer to Dean as Crowley stood.

I couldn't help but flinch a bit as he moved, and his hands rose. From anyone else it would seem like a non threatening gesture indicating peaceful intentions. From the King of Hell, it was almost laughable.

"No need to worry, Mrs. Squirrel. I would hate to make Dean angry. He's decidedly less... cuddly... when you get on his bad side."

My eyes shifted to Dean. His face was cold as he stared down the King of Hell. "Crowley was just leaving." My gaze shifted away from Dean's face, and I gasped as I took in the empty room. Crowley was gone. I very early melted with relief. Tentatively, I placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. It was rigid with tension, and I slowly started to massage circles through his shirt. Dean's anxiety was persistent, but I've always been stubborn as hell. I kept at it until his head rolled back and his eyes slid closed, a low rumble of appreciation rippling out from his chest.

Dean's hands covered mine, stilling my efforts as his eyes opened. I was standing behind his chair, and I leaned down, pressing my lips to his for a quick kiss. When I pulled back, Dean stood so quickly I could barely track his movements, his arms pinning me to him as his lips devoured mine. My body melted into his almost immediately, but as his hands explored up under the hem of my borrowed shirt, a pesky thought occurred to me. "Wait... Dean..." It took every ounce of will power I could muster to completely disengage from Dean.

"Yeah?" His husky voice tested my resolve.

"When Crowley was here, did the case come up?"

Dean was smiling mischievously as I spoke, and the small smirk turned into a triumphant grin when he pulled my shirt off over my head. "He says it's not demons." I groaned as his lips caressed the beaded, rosy tip of one of my breasts. He took advantage of my distraction, scooping me into his arms and carrying me to the bed. I reached for the remote. I had intended to turn the damn TV off, but my attention was monopolized by the feeling of Dean's lips as they caressed my woman hood. I'd flipped from Casa Erotica to the local news. My fingers tangled in Dean's hair, and I fervently wished that it was to encourage him to continue. Unfortunately, we weren't in Casa Erotica, and the real world was rearing its ugly head in the form of a news anchor who's grim face would have grabbed anyone's attention, even without the catchy synthesised alert music.

"Dean?"

"Hmmmm?" The vibrations his response created nearly undid me.

"Dean!"

He slipped a finger into me, and I couldn't stifle my moan. Man, he was persistent.

"DEAN!" I turned the volume up and scooted back, breaking Dean's glorious, wonderful, talented concentration. Whatever was lurking around the Packard, I wanted to gank it myself for forcing us to live in the real world instead of our own little Casa Erotica.

"We interrupt Dr. Sexy, MD to bring you a breaking news alert. Police have confirmed that a body, identified as missing person Jessica Abbot, was found today near Grady's. Ms. Abbot was the first victim in a series of unsolved and unexplained disappearances to occur in the Milwaukee Junction area of Detroit. At this time, the cause of death has not been determined, but the District Attorney confirmed that foul play is suspected."

An overwhelming sense of helplessness filled me. We were here, less than 500 yards from where we suspected Jessica Abbot was being held, and we were unable to prevent her death. It was a shitty, hollow, helpless feeling that had me reeling. It was a feeling I hadn't had in a long time, and one I would never wish on my worst enemy. Composure slipped through my fingers for a moment, and I said a quick prayer that Dean didn't see how the news had affected me. I measured my breathing, trying to calm myself. It wasn't until Dean had slipped his arms around me that I realized there were barely restrained tears in my eyes.

I felt foolish for so nearly breaking down, but all of that melted away when Dean pressed his lips to my forehead. His fingers ran soothingly through my hair as he held me. With every touch, I felt my strength renewed.

"The others may still be alive," Dean reminded me.

I pressed a kiss to his lips, nodding. We hadn't made it in time to save Jessica Abbott, but there were other people out there whose lives were still in our hands. Sadness, helplessness, and anger were working hard to take me down, but I knew it wouldn't do anyone any good if I let those feelings paralyze me. Instead, I resolved to use them. There were still people to save, and we _would_ save them.


	9. Apologies

Hey guys. I am so sorry I haven't been active. Between the difficult nature of the upcoming chapters and an abusive relationship that I just got free from, I haven't been able to focus on my writing. I refuse to pose something that is less than amazing for all my wonderful followers and reviewers. I just want you to know that you haven't been forgotten.

And, hey! Charlie is back tonight! Maybe I will work her in to one of the parts of my story? Lets see what happens on tonight's episode!


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